“All rise,” the bailiff said.
Bently stood as Belle’s trembling hand wove into his. He gave her a squeeze. Today was the day they would find out if TJ received justice.
“Please be seated,” old judge Robertson said, after taking his seat.
Bently’s ears rang, drowning out everything as his heart pounded in his chest. He wrapped his arm around Belle, holding her close as he’d done every day since the shooting. They’d had such a long road of working through their grief. But each day got a little easier.
One of the jurors passed a piece of paper to the bailiff and then it went to the judge. This was it. The moment they’d waited twenty months, three days, and seven hours for.
“On the count of murder in the second degree, how do you find the defendant?” Judge Robertson asked the juror.
“We find the defendant, Luke Parsons, not guilty.”
An audible collective gasp sounded throughout the courtroom. Belle’s hand tightened around his. His heart lurched in his chest.
Come on.
“And on the count of manslaughter, how do you find the defendant?” Mathews asked.
“We find the defendant, guilty.”
Bently let out the breath he’d been holding. TJ would get some justice, though nothing would make up for his precious life that had been stolen.
Luke Parsons sat stone-faced. He’d never even offered them an apology. He’d sworn he was just doing his job, that he’d feared for his life.
Bently glanced at Belle. She was so brave in the face of adversity. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of tissues before handing them to her.
She smiled and took one from the packet before wiping her eyes. Her silver wedding band glinted in the light. He pulled her against him and kissed her head. His angel, sent from heaven. She’d endured hell and still managed to hold on to her goodness and light.
***
They burst through the doors of the courthouse as cameras clicked and flashed. A crowd of reporters thrust their microphones towards Belle.
“Mrs. Evans, are you happy with the verdict?”
“Mrs. Evans, do you think justice prevailed today?”
Instinctually, he stepped in front of her, protecting her from the surge of people. Thousands had gathered outside, holding their signs. After the body cam footage had been released, and the media had found out about yet another shooting, the Black Lives Matter movement had caught wind and the national news coverage exploded.
“It’s okay,” Belle assured him, squeezing his hand.
He stood by her side as she spoke, holding one hand on her lower back.
“Officer Luke Parsons received seventeen years. One year for every one my brother was alive. My brother will never be able to achieve the dreams he had. Am I happy with the verdict? I’d be much happier if my brother was here with me today. But nothing will bring him back. Continue to say his name and the thousands of others who’ve been unjustly targeted by the justice system and had their lives stolen for their only crime—being born Black. TJ had so much potential. He was so full of life, and all that was violently stolen by the internalized prejudice and systemic racism that plagues this country. It needs to end now!”
The crowd chanted, “No more! No more!”
Belle took a deep breath, as if drawing in courage. “The one thing I can do is try to make this world a better place. Make this country safer for people of color. I can do my part so that not one more Black man will suffer at the hands of police. We can hold those accountable who steal their lives out of misguided fear and racism. But I can’t do it alone. I need your help.” Belle took a breath, searching the crowd.
Pride glowed in Bently’s chest as his wife called a nation to action.
She continued, “White people, allies, I’m talking to you. There will never be a world in which racism doesn’t exist, unless we’re willing to come together. Black, White, brown, we’re all humans. We all love. We all have dreams and hopes, and families we care for. Start by talking to your children about their privilege and racism. Don’t be afraid to speak up when you see something. White silence is White consent. Stop the hate by stopping the hate speech.”
The crowd cheered.
Belle held up her hand, quieting them. “Educate yourself, read books, talk to people who’ve lived it. And don’t get defensive when we tell you something is hurtful. Acknowledge your privilege. Be better, America.”
“Mrs. Evans, what do you have to say to those who would accuse you of sleeping with the enemy? Your husband being both a White man and a cop?” a reporter asked.
Bently’s spine stiffened.
Belle’s chin rose. “The police are not the enemy. My husband is not the enemy. It is not them versus us. Many of those in blue are good people, risking their lives every single day to protect strangers—my husband included. The only way we’re going to win this war on racism is to work together to weed out the ones who misuse their power, and those who stand by and do nothing to stop them. We have to rewrite unjust racist laws and make diversity and sensitivity training mandatory, as well as de-escalation instruction. My husband, Sheriff Bently Evans, has implemented it in our state and is working with our senators to introduce new legislation nationwide that will rewrite the structure of accountability for officers, along with stricter guidelines of their use of force.”
The crowd applauded and cheered again.
“Mrs. Evans—”
“That’s all I have to say. Thank you for your support.”
Bently wrapped his arm around Belle and kissed her cheek.
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he said, leading her away from the crowd towards his truck.
Her smile made his chest tighten. There had been such a long period of time when she’d not been able to find happiness. They’d waded through the pain together and come out stronger because of it.
